


Embers

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smauglock, touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fire.</p>
<p>  There was so much of it.</p>
<p>  It lit the roofs of houses, licked along the streets, dove between the alleyways. It danced a dance of death and destruction.</p>
<p>  Yet Molly couldn't pull her eyes away from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was a bit longer than I expected it to be. I'm not as familiar with Tolkien as I would like to be, so I would like to thank allthebellsinvenice for her kind help. Unbeta'd and unbritpicked. I don't own BBC Sherlock or any of its characters, and I don't own any of Tolkien's majestic creations.

Fire.

There was so much of it.

It lit the roofs of houses, licked along the streets, dove between the alleyways. It danced a dance of death and destruction.

Yet Molly couldn't pull her eyes away from it. The fire was terrible and horrible, and it was beautiful as it swirled in the air.

Molly was barely aware of her father pulling her along, yelling at her to keep up. She only snapped out of her trance when he had shouted her name a third time. Blearily, Molly looked up at him.

"We have to keep going. Please, Molly. We're almost to safety. Just a little longer. Hang on to my hand," her father begged. Molly only nodded, clutching to his hand tighter.

A great roar shook the air, and terrified screams accompanied it. Crashing down came the bakery just beside Molly and her father. They dodged the debris and kept running.

Then, just as they reached the gates, her father stopped. He knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. "Molly, I can't go any further. I have to help the others evacuate. Go through the gates and yell for help," he instructed. He kissed her forehead then rose.

"Papa, no, you can't!" Molly cried. She made a wild grab for his hand again. "I wish to stay with you. Please."

Her father merely shook his head, and he pried her from him gently. "Go," he said firmly. "I promise I will be back for you, Molly."

Molly watched through tear-filled eyes as her father strode off into the burning city, breaking into a run as he got to the flames. 

The large shadow of the beast swooped over them again, growling lowly. Her knees weak with fear, Molly started sprinting to the gates, crying for help.

Another growl shook the ground underneath Molly. She daren't look back, for fear of what she'd find.

So close. She was so close to the gates, to freedom, to safety, to—

Something had crashed beside Molly. She hadn't been quick enough to dodge the stone and splinters of wood that rained from the wreckage. A chunk of stone collided with the side of her skull, and Molly's legs gave way underneath her.

More people from the city rushed past her, not bothering to help her up. She supposed she didn't blame them, she though blearily. They were too caught up in their own overwhelming fear to assist anyone. 

Blackness crept into her vision, and Molly winced, laying her head back on the ground, eyes fluttering shut.

"The _prospering_ city of Dale!" A great, booming voice rolled across the village, mocking and patronizing. "Look at your pathetic city now, inhabitants of this _fine_ town! I will _crush_ it beneath my claws and burn it with my breath! I will pick you off one by one and devour your very _essence!_ "

Molly lifted her head a fraction of an inch, the pain in her head intensifying even with that small movement. Her vision blurred at the edges. But through her tears, she could see the great figure of the beast moving above her. Suddenly, he struck down, and loud shrieking was cut off abruptly. Molly didn't bother to think about what had just taken place.

Then she caught a glimpse of the terrible creature, and she closed her eyes, the vision burnt into her lids. A red dragon, the light from the fire glinting off of his scales and turning him golden even in the waning light of the evening. Bright eyes were sweeping over the city, searching then finding, and the great body _swooped_...

The pain in Molly's skull took over, and she fell into a blissful rest, her body growing lax and the screams of horror fading out.  
~*~  
When Molly awoke, she was in a cot in a shabbily made tent. A bowl of water sat beside her with a cloth soaking in the liquid. She splashed the water onto her face then ventured out of the tent, swaying on her feet in pain and exhaustion and confusion.

Molly covered her mouth and stumbled a little, her eyes wide. A wide arrangement of tents, as far as she could see, littered the grounds. Great campfires drew people together in huddles as black pots bubbled atop the flames.

Her breath hitched at the sight of the fire.

Flames.

Dale, in ruins, charred to the ground.

Her father, running back to save whomever he could find.

_Her father._

A choked sob escaped Molly's throat, and she doubled over. Some residents came rushing over to be of whatever assistance they could for her.

Somebody asked for her name as they handed her a canteen full of a sweet liquid.

"Molly Hooper."

Murmurs arose from the small group around her. Her father had been the town's best doctor, even though he had a bit more trouble with the job after Molly's mother had passed away.

She looked around at the group and swallowed hard. The question she didn't want to know the answer to burst forth from her: "Where's my father?"

Silence. Then a woman was gently rubbing her shoulders, explaining what had happened in a soft, gentle voice.

In the attack, only a little under half the city survived it. The city itself was nothing but an echo of what it used to be. Charred and in ruins.

No one had gone back to search. Undoubtedly there were still some wandering about the lost city of Dale in confusion, their hearts too deep in sorrow to understand what had happened. 

Alas, no one had seen her father since the dragon's terrible occurrence. 

"He's dead, then," Molly whispered, eyes filling with tears. Nobody spoke, confirming the awful truth.

Dead. _Dead._

Molly, at a mere thirteen years of age, was an orphan.

Numbly, Molly sat down on the ground. Someone wrapped a blanket round her shoulders and gave her a small bowl of broth to sip.

There Molly remained until nightfall, and even then she would've stayed, save for a person carrying her back to her tent and to her cot.

She didn't shed a tear until she was sure she was alone, then she sobbed for what seemed like hours.

By the time she had fallen asleep, the sun was beginning to climb into the sky.  
~*~  
Molly had learned quite a bit from her father when he had been alive. Especially about the human body.

When she learned that there was a doctor needed, Molly tentatively volunteered, unsure about whether or not she was fit for the job, but it had turned out that she wasn't terrible at it.

As the lost people of Dale rebuilt, Molly grew older. 

Dale was forgotten though its remains littered the thoughts of many. In its place Lake-town was assembled. 

Upon Molly's eighteenth birthday, she was appointed the city's doctor. She had been happy of the news, yet she felt as if being a medic of that sort was her division.

Her realization of this fact was when she had come upon the body of a man. Instead of screaming or fainting away—as she was sure many of the other women in the town would've done—Molly inspected closer.

Moments later, when she had called for help, she came to a conclusion that the man had died of poisoning, due to the slight frothing at the mouth, the thick smell of something acidic, and the wide bloodshot eyes.

From that day on, Molly was to assign the causes of death to bodies. However, she was still asked for medical advice from many seeking it.

At eighteen, Molly was expected to take a husband and bear at least one child. It was to be sure that the population of the town didn't falter through the years.

No man wanted Molly, a woman who dealt with dead bodies, as a wife. That was okay with Molly, for in turn she didn't plan on marriage and children until much later.

Perhaps one day a man would love her enough to not mind what she did, but until then, she did have a bit of work to distract herself with.  
~*~  
Molly held her breath, trembling as she watched from her window in terror.

The warning bell was still ringing in the distance, but it was fading quickly. No doubt the bell-ringer had fled in fear to find a safe hiding place.

The instinct to flee to a far away place, to hide in a cave away from the horror that flew above the town, to just find a serene place to curl up and never be found again filled Molly's limbs and body. She shuddered as she waited for the flames to spew upon the city, bathing the buildings in fire and the blood of the unlucky.

It didn't come.

Instead, a growling, thunderous voice flooded her ears. It was the same voice from that day so long ago, when she had been but thirteen. Over the span of nine years, much had changed about Molly, but the terrible memory from the dreadful dragon's attack remained.

"You're all so _pathetic,_ so _predictable,_ hiding away in your homes and cottages, tucked underneath quilts and hidden away in cupboards, as if it'll protect you from harm," the voice practically purred. Molly gritted her teeth, beads of sweat dotting her forehead.

The body of the dragon slithered into her sight, and Molly swallowed back a gasp. Scales as red as blood, eyes as bright as lanterns, harboring intelligence that Molly couldn't quite fathom. His leathery wings beat in the sky, causing small whirlwinds in the streets below. 

"All it would take to destroy this city— _Lake-town,_ if my memory doesn't fail me, though it usually does not—would be a breath of my fire. How long it's been since I've tasted the flesh of Men!" The dragon chuckled, lazily circling over the town.

Molly bit down on her knuckle, taking in shaky breaths through the nose. Her mind screamed at her to burrow down in the cellar, to save herself, but she was rooted to her spot in terror and a perverse sense of wonder as to what the beast would do.

"But today it will not come to be. I will come to terms of an _agreement_ of sorts, if that is what you all wish to keep living your _miserable_ lives." 

Her face pressed against the window, breath fogging the glass, Molly stared in amazement as the dragon gracefully landed on the city well. The stone groaned under his weight.

The city well was possibly one of the largest structures in the town, and it barely held the creature perched upon it like some great, scaly bird.

"Every month, before the moon is full, you must bring me a sacrifice bearing a precious item from this city!" He bellowed, long neck swinging around to gaze at the various housings. His eyes swept over Molly's window, stopping and staring long enough to draw a squeak from Molly's throat.

"If you fail to do so, I will come and destroy your town as easily as I did with Dale! Keep your promise to continue this agreement, and I will leave you in peace!" The dragon seemed to sneer at the words.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a stumbling figure coming nearer, swinging what looked to be the wooden leg from a table. Molly gulped. It was the town drunk, Mister Mabley. 

"Oi! You...thing!" yelled the man, flinging his hand up as if to stop the beast from leaving. "Wha' makes ye think we'll d' somethin' like tha'?" He stumbled to a stop in front of the dragon, spreading his arms. "The childs...children of Dale...don't kneel b'fore a damned lizard!"

Quiet filled the town; everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath.

_Oh, please just take him and leave us alone,_ Molly thought in dread.

Then the dragon roared in laughter. It shook the ground, causing the drunkard to stumble in wide-eyed confusion.

"Oh yes, the _children_ of the great city of Dale. Reduced to the children of Lake-town." The great dragon lowered his head to become level with Mr. Mabley. "Tell me, _child of Dale,_ " he growled. "Are you so great that you can battle a dragon?"

Molly looked upon the scene in front of her in horror. The man raised the table leg shakily, but a self-assured smile was on his face. That was wiped away as the dragon seemed to smirk at Mr. Mabley. 

In one swift movement, the now rather sober man was swept into the creature's claws. His scream was cut off as abruptly as it had started.

The dragon, with only a flap of his wings, was airborne. "Is there anyone who dares to challenge me, Smaug the Terrible?" His voice shook the buildings. Nobody else dared go outside.

"Very well. Let this be the first sacrifice! Do not forget, else your precious city and its inhabitants will be reduced to bones and ashes!"

Then Smaug was gone.

So the great beast did have a name. Molly leant back from the window, letting out a slow breath. 

A beat or two passed.

The town erupted into chaos. People came streaming out of their houses, Molly included, and went to the town hall. Many children were crying, and even some adults were.

"This is madness!" one man roared.

"We shan't have anyone left of this town," moaned a young woman.

"I say we kill the foul beast!" cried another. Cheers rose at the thought.

Many voices bubbled up from the crowd until the town's master came out of the hall, trembling and pale. 

"Sir, what shall we do?" asked a lady near Molly. "We can't just give him our people."

"Slaughter it!"

"Kill him and mount his great scaly head on the well!"

"Set _him_ on fire! See how he likes it!"

Molly scowled a little. It was unbelievable how stupid some of these people were.

Maybe that was why Smaug seemed to like to antagonize them. Because they were so stupid.

In the midst of Molly's thoughts, the crowd had grown louder and rowdier from the thought of slaying the dragon. Finally the town's master found his voice.

"Silence!" He yelled, raising a hand. Instantly the voices fell. "Thank you. Now, I know that many of you have questions and concerns—"

"Like _hell_ we do!" shouted a lad next to Molly. 

"Shut up," Molly hissed at him. "We'll never get anything done like this."

He glared at her but pressed his lips together.

"I say that we give him what he wants," the master declared, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. A great cry of disbelief swelled. Molly grimaced and turned, planning on walking away. For whatever reason, she decided to stay.

"Smaug will tire of our sacrifices soon. He won't accept them anymore once they have grown boring to him," the town's master yelled. 

"Then he'll just come along and smash our town to bits!" 

"Once he's tired of _us,_ he'll wipe us out!"

The master merely shook his head. "Do you all wish to live and sacrifice one person a month, or be completely wiped out without a second thought from that wretched dragon?"

Slowly the gathering settled into an uneasy silence. As slow as it had quieted, it dispersed. Molly shook her head, wandering back to her house as well.  
~*~  
"No! Please, don't take me! I don't want to go!" the girl screamed. She seemed to be going mad in terror. "Pick someone else! Father, _help me!_ "

There was pandemonium in the city square, and Molly found herself caught in it. 

It was Molly's thirty-first birthday that day, but to her, it was just another day. She had gotten a few wishes of good will for her birthday.

She had been on her way to the market to buy some milk when a girl ran through the crowd, nearly knocking Molly over. The girl was sobbing, heaving for breath, and not long afterwards, a couple of men and a few women followed, shouting for her to stop. 

Molly had furrowed her brows. Maybe it was another orphan on the loose. 

It didn't look like it, Molly decided, and strode after the group. 

They had cornered the girl in the square and were slowly closing in on her. By that time, a large gathering had dribbled in to see what was the ruckus.

First one man grabbed her then the other, hauling her to her feet.

That was when the girl started screaming.

Many of the onlookers had tried to say something to stop them, but they all held looks of pity on their expressions.

"Please, someone, _anyone!_ I don't want to die! I don't..." She broke down into sobs, and Molly had had enough.

She stepped forward, nudging the men out of her way to get to the girl. "Get off of her! Can't you see that she's hurt?" Molly yelled. She scowled at the group that had pursued the girl then knelt in front of her, her expression softening. "Hello, dear. What's your name?"

The girl hesitated. "A-Aria."

"Aria. What a pretty name." Molly gently helped Aria to her feet. A cut snaked across Aria's forehead, but there wasn't much blood. "Why were you running?" Molly asked gently, rubbing her thumbs across the young girl's hands. She couldn't have been more than twelve.

"She was chosen to be given to Smaug." Both jumped at the voice behind them. Aria clutched Molly's hand tightly in what Molly assumed was fear.

"She's the sacrifice. I suggest you let her go, Miss Hooper, else it'll only get worse for us." The master stepped forwards, his eyes gleaming.

Sickness then rage filled Molly. "You chose a _young girl,_ who still has much of her life ahead of her, to give to that...that lizard?" Molly growled.

The master nodded. "Her presence won't be missed. She's an orphan." At this, muttered agreements floated through the mess of people gathered behind Lake-town's master. 

"Oh, and yours will be? How old are you? Sixty? Seventy?" Molly's voice rose. "You're _awfully_ close to dying. Why don't you go yourself?"

His eyes glittered dangerously. "Don't try me, darling," he said softly.

"Girion was a much wiser ruler than you," she snapped. "He would've sacrificed himself in a heartbeat instead of becoming a coward like _you_ and forcing a _child_ to go in your place."

A few scattered cheers rose then died off when the master turned his head and glared at the many people now arranged at the scene.

Aria was now shifting on her feet beside Molly, glancing up at her. Molly smiled down at the girl reassuringly.

Molly looked back at the master and scoffed. "Maybe Smaug is right. We're pathetic. Offering him a child is beyond anything I would ever dream of. I shall take Aria's place."

As soon as the words left Molly's mouth, Aria darted away, getting lost in the crowd. Molly nearly laughed, though she didn't blame the girl.

"I will take her place," Molly announced firmly, standing up a bit straighter. "And _never again_ will a young person be chosen as the sacrifice," she hissed to the master, glaring at him firmly.

When she walked past him, she didn't look back at him.

And when she walked into the crowd, they parted for her.

One person bowed, and she heard him mutter underneath his breath, " _Ai! Bain in gwend ne pada opo mín._ "

Molly's eyes flickered to the man, and he winked at her.

"Hail! Fair the maiden that walks before us," he cried, and shouts of agreement broke forth from the gathering.

"May her journey be swift as the wind and full of good fortune!"

Molly bowed her head and said nothing, the full weight of what she had agreed to settling upon her shoulders.  
~*~  
Her horse was trembling underneath her, and Molly didn't blame the poor mare.

In the wild lands of Erebor roamed things Molly didn't wish to think about. She shuddered, her hand drifting to the blade at her hip. It gave her a sense of security, even though it'd be of little use against a dragon.

Molly pressed her horse forward, murmuring gently to the sweet creature to keep her from bolting.

After what had happened that afternoon, the townspeople had agreed to lend Molly their best steed. For the bit of treasure she had brought as an offering was a golden bird. It looked like an owl, though Molly couldn't be for sure. She didn't get the time to ask.

The mountain loomed in front of Molly ominously, and Molly's steed gave a soft nicker of fear. She tightened her cloak around herself, shivering from a mixture of cold and slight terror

Many of the townspeople had told her to speak the dragon's name loudly, for he had sharp senses. He would sweep down from the mountain, then—

Molly bit her lip, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. Maybe it wasn't too late to turn back...

A scowl grew on Molly's lips. No. She wasn't going to become the _scum_ that the town's master was. 

With a soft grunt, Molly slid off of her horse, her feet landing nimbly in the charred grass. Molly unpacked the few things in the packs at the horse's sides (they all came to an agreement that she didn't need much since she was heading towards death) and stared up at the mountain, swallowing hard.

Molly turned to her mare and cupped her hands around the animal's twitching ear. " _Lenwentë._ Go away. You did well. Thank you," Molly whispered.

At this, the horse snorted and turned then galloped away.

The stableboy had told her to say these words to take the mare back to Esgaroth. She was told that the mare had been a gift from the Elves in pity for what had happened to Dale. That did explain how the mare never did seem to have to rest and how she understood Molly's words; the horse had even seemed to express feelings.

Molly held onto her small pack tightly, her eyes wide as she stared up at the towering mound. It was now or never. 

"Have mercy and make my death painless and quick," Molly muttered under her breath. She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Oh Smaug, King Under the Mountain!" She cried. "It is I, your sacrifice, in trade for peace in Esgaroth upon the Long Lake! I offer myself willingly. I shan't run from you."

Her voice echoed off of the ancient stone cliffs, and not much longer afterwards, a deep chuckle rolled from the sky. Molly looked up wildly, and her knees almost gave way.

"My, you're a pretty one," Smaug practically purred. He landed in front of her with surprising grace for such a large bodied beast. "Most of my sacrifices have been old men and women, but this is certainly a nice change."

Swallowing hard, Molly gazed down at her feet. "I thank you, sir, but flattery will get us nowhere. Have mercy and make my death quick, please," she murmured, falling to her knees.

She tentatively stole a look up at the dragon, and she gulped. He seemed to be studying her, his head close to hers. Slowly, Smaug pulled back, seemingly satisfied. 

"I won't kill you quite yet," he told her. "However, it is getting dark out, and I don't want our first evening together to end on a sour note due to a wolf pack or Orcs. Come along." He spread his wings then paused. "Ah, yes. I've nearly forgotten. You're not an Elf nor a Dwarf. You wouldn't be able to scale the mountainside. I'm afraid I'll have to carry you."

Molly squeaked as she felt something smooth and strong wrap around her waist, and she looked down at herself in surprise. Smaug had wrapped his tail round her, and though he wasn't holding her very tightly, she somehow had the feeling that he wouldn't let her drop.

Then the dragon was carrying her through the night sky, his tail tucking her close to his body. He was warm, Molly realized. She had thought of him to be cold and slimy.

She found herself stroking the scales on his tail, seemingly mesmerized by them. They were soft to the touch, yet Molly knew that no blade could pierce his flesh.

Peeking around his body, Molly saw that they were nearing the entrance to the mountain. A yawning cavern was all could Molly see of it. 

Before they slipped into Smaug's lair, Molly allowed herself one last look backwards. She could see the twinkling, cheerful lights of Lake-town far below, sitting on the bank of the lake.

It gave way to darkness as they slipped into the cavern, and she saw no more of the outside world as Smaug slid the heavy stone door into place.  
~*~  
Molly was set down on a great stairwell leading down into what she assumed was where Smaug usually resided.

"Go down the steps. I will already be there to show you where you will sleep for the night." Smaug gently nudged her forward with his tail before languidly gliding on his wings down into the cavern.

She huffed but started on her way anyways. As she made her way down the steps, her mind wandered. Why was he being so gentle to her? Why wasn't she dead yet?

Maybe he liked to play with his food. Molly shivered at the thought.

"Why are you shivering?" His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she found herself at the bottom of the staircase already. How did that happen? "Surely you're not cold."

Molly shook her head. "No, Great Smaug. It's quite warm, really." The stench of sulfur and must filled her nose, and she furrowed her brows. 

The dragon made a noncommittal hum. "You must be tired. It is a long journey from Esgaroth to Erebor," he said. He started striding away from Molly, and when she didn't follow, he motioned with his wing. "Do try to keep up," he muttered.

In the great stone hallway, it was dark, but not so dark Molly couldn't see, though she did stumble a few times. Her dress was starting to be an annoyance to her.

"You will sleep in here for the night," Smaug rumbled. The hallway opened into a huge room, and Molly had to blink at the sudden light.

"It's very r—" Molly started to say something then cut off mid sentence. Her eyes widened, and she didn't bother to cover up her gasp.

Gold. As far as the eye could see. 

It glittered in huge mounds, covering the floor and flooding the many other staircases scattered throughout the enormous room. Not only was it gold, Molly discovered upon taking a step closer, but jewels and other precious items as well.

Molly ran her hand through her hair, eyes darting about and taking in the sight. "Y-you want me to sleep in here?" she squeaked, staring up at the massive creature nervously.

Smaug heaved a sigh, crawling to the biggest heap of gold and settling on top of it. He curled up on the gold jewels akin to the likes of a giant cat. "Is that not what I said before?" he replied, snark lacing its way into his voice.

Molly blushed and muttered an apology. Below where Smaug had curled up was a pile of animal skins. He lazily opened an eye, watching as Molly crawled between the furs.

"Tomorrow I will show you a bit more of the mountain if everything goes as planned," he told her, shifting on the precious metals. The little movement sent hundreds of coins tumbling, but none landed very near Molly.

Just as Molly was falling into an uneasy sleep, the dragon spoke again, this time a smirk evident in his voice. "I have counted each and every item in this hoard. Do not even attempt to take anything, for I _will_ know if something is missing."

"You're going to kill me anyways. Why would I try to take anything now?"

All Molly got in response was a low chuckle.

Soon she had fallen asleep, her dreams plagued with flames and dragons. 

No one died in her dream.  
~*~  
It had once been the dwelling of Dwarves, Molly learned.

She ran her fingers over the stone walls as she walked behind Smaug. No one else could have crafted a mountain into a kingdom.

"You're correct. This was made by the hands of Dwarves from long ago." 

Molly jumped at Smaug's voice then furrowed her brows. "You can read minds?" She asked dumbly. 

The great dragon gave a snort. "It is not quite like that, woman," he replied. 

"Molly. My name's Molly Hooper," she said automatically, then she clamped a hand over her mouth. 

Smaug turned his great head to look at her in mild amusement. "Well then, _Molly,_ I shall certainly be using your name to address you properly in the future," he chuckled. 

They walked for a while longer in silence. "Where are you taking me?" Molly asked finally, picking at the sleeve of her dress nervously. It had been the only clothing she brought, besides her cloak; it was back in the treasure room.

"I thought perhaps you would wish to see the library."

"There's a library?"

"Is that not what I just said?"

Smaug stopped suddenly, and Molly nearly walked into his leg. She wrinkled her nose. He let out a hum. 

"I cannot fit through the doorway. I will sit here and merely watch. Go," he told her. 

Molly gave the dragon an unsure look before tentatively pushing past him and into the waiting room. A moment later, Molly let out a soft gasp. 

Wide bookshelves filled with scrolls and dusty old books lined the walls. Though it wasn't a big room compared to the room she had spent the night in, the library was still decent sized. In the corner Molly spied a dusty old chair, covered in cobwebs.

Molly started to slowly walk around the room, her hand running over the spines of the books and the paper of the scrolls as she went along. "Why did you bring me here?" She inquired quietly, turning back to Smaug. He had only stuck his head in, so Molly couldn't see the rest of his body. "I mean, I...I like knowing that there's _books_ in this mountain, but I'm not going to remain here alive for long."

He merely smiled at her, if dragons could smile. "You underestimate me, Molly," he purred. His bright eyes followed her movement thoughtfully. "It wasn't hard to tell that you're obviously well-educated. I figured that I may as well make your stay worth something," he continued after a beat.

Swallowing hard, Molly nodded. "I am grateful for your thoughtfulness, Oh Smaug," she whispered. "Though how did you know I was well-educated?" She frowned at him, her gaze a little unfocused as she had been trying to read the small print on the old books.

"Deductions. They're not very hard if you're attentive. Your hands are scarred, blotted with ink stains. The scars from a knife, because they are too fine and neat to be anything else; the ink from a quill, no doubt. There is a tiny cut between your first and middle finger. It is fresh, not but one or two days old. Not from a knife, but from the edge of paper, since it is jagged." He paused for a moment, seemingly pleased with himself, then narrowed his eyes. "If you're not going to read anything, then we can proceed back to the treasure room," he said sharply. 

Molly pursed her lips and turned back to the books. How _did_ he do that? She bit her lip and shook her head. 

Most of the titles were written in languages Molly couldn't decipher. Dwarfish, or perhaps Elvish. She wasn't for sure.

"I don't know how to speak any of these languages," she mumbled. She turned back to Smaug, who was beginning to draw his head from the doorway. 

"Then perhaps one day you shall learn about them," he rumbled. 

Dragons, Molly decided as she wandered out of the room after the beast, were odd creatures.  
~*~  
At least six months had passed since Molly was sent from Lake-town. She still wasn't dead.

She had come to terms very early on that she was going to die, one way or another. For that entire first month, she had walked lightly everywhere she went, not daring to anger Smaug. Molly slept little, for she had the fear that he would kill her in her rest. No doubt he wouldn't have hesitated, either. 

One day she had stayed in the room of books for a bit longer than Smaug would've liked. Instead of obeying his command to get out, she stayed out of stubbornness. 

It hadn't been a good choice. 

As soon as she had gotten out of the library, he bellowed at her. He had told her that it was unwise to not follow his orders, and later on Molly agreed, but only slightly.

At that moment, however, she had yelled back, saying how upsetting it was to know that she was going to die at the claws of a dragon who was throwing a tantrum.

His gullet had started to glow with the threat of flames, and his eyes burned in barely contained fury. "You are _nothing_ but a filthy _cow_ to me, wench!" he snarled. "You are fortunate enough to still have your wretched _life!_ "

Molly had glared back at him, her little hands balling into fists. "Says the one who has murdered _hundreds._ You've no remorse for your actions, do you? You enjoyed all of the bloodshed. And now you're making a small city offer you innocent lives in trade of _peace._ _You're_ the one living a wretched life. At least I _help_ people."

She was sure the dragon had been close to spitting fire, but for some odd reason, he didn't. He seemed to have been listening. 

Her breathing hitched, and tears filled her eyes. "If you're going to kill me, do it now. Let me be back with my father. He died in your attack upon Dale. Just get it over with."

A pregnant pause filled the chamber. "I am not going to kill you," the creature said quietly, turning away from her. He curled up on his gold pile, not facing her. "Do not try my patience again, little Molly, else I may not be able to stop myself next time."

Something had changed in Smaug, Molly realized. She had not seen him bring in any more people from Lake-town. The only other beings he brought in were either wicked creatures that had been scaling the mountain (Smaug had said they may have caught her scent, which caused her to shudder) or poor animals who didn't escape Smaug's terror in time. Usually the latter was food for the two of them.

"Molly." Her thoughts shattered as Smaug's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We have arrived."

In the past month, he had begun to take her outside of the mountain on little trips. This afternoon was one of them. But instead of being wrapped in his tail, he allowed her to sit up near his head, clinging to the scales. 

Molly was gently set on the ground, and she took a look around them. She gave a soft, delighted gasp. 

A pool as clear as crystal bubbled in front of her. She turned to look at Smaug, smiling widely. 

"Go on. It isn't harmful. Though it may be a bit chilly," he murmured. Smaug laid on his belly on the ground beside the water. 

Curiously, Molly dipped her foot into the water. It was a warm afternoon outside. She wade into the water waist-deep, then after a moment's hesitation, slid her body underneath the water. 

They stayed there until the sun was beginning to set. 

"We need to leave, Molly. There are dangerous things roaming this country," Smaug told her. He dipped his head so she could climb onto his neck. He really was warm. 

"Surely not as dangerous as you?" Molly remarked without a second thought. 

He let out a low laugh. "Not as dangerous as me, no. To you, however..."

She didn't hear the rest of his thought, as he was flapping his great wings.   
~*~  
A great roar filled the treasure room, and Molly sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes snapping open. 

Smaug had entrusted to her one of the old bedrooms when the first month of her stay had passed. It was loads better than sleeping in a pile of furs, though she did miss Smaug's presence for some reason. 

She slipped out of her bed and was running down the hall before she knew what she was doing, her bare feet slapping against the old stone. No, she _did_ know what she was doing: seeing what had happened.

The sudden image of Smaug's lifeless body filled her mind, and her breath rushed out of her. 

She reached the hoard as soon as another roar filled the room, this time sounding much more...man.

_Man?_

Molly glanced around the room, searching for Smaug's large body.

Only she didn't find him.

In his place, she found a man.

She let out a soft gasp, taking a few tentative steps towards him. He held out a hand as he struggled to his feet. 

"Don't, Molly. Don't come near me," the man said tiredly. Her eyes widened. She knew that voice, having listened to it for nearly a year now. But how...?

"Smaug?" she breathed. 

He turned towards her, a rather wry smile on his lips. "You should be asleep."

Her eyes traveled down his form before she could stop herself. Inky black curls. Icy blue-green eyes. Lean, wiry figure. Rather tall. Plush lips. And, Molly discovered with a blush, completely nude.

Smaug rolled his eyes. "Dragons don't wear clothes, Molly," he drawled. 

"Why are you...l-like this?" Molly stammered, moving her hands a bit. "I mean, I've never seen you like this before."

"It is the full moon, Molly." He blinked at her, as if what he had just said explained everything. 

"A deeper explanation would be much appreciated, thank you."

He scowled slightly. "Pah, humans," he muttered. 

Molly crossed her arms, quirking a brow. At least she knew in this form he couldn't breathe fire. Hopefully. 

"Every month, when the moon is full, I change into this." He motioned with his hands. "It usually isn't a very painful process, but tonight was agonizing, for some odd reason. No one has ever seen me as a human."

Molly licked her lips. "What are you called in this form?"

A smirk graced his features, and he took a step forwards. Carefully, he took her chin into his hand, directing her gaze upwards to him. She let out a small noise of surprise, her eyes widening. 

"Smaug as a dragon. And..." He dipped his head, his breath brushing across her lips. They parted slightly, and Molly shivered slightly, but not from the cold.

" _Sherlock_ as a man." He pulled back ever so slightly, the same irritating smirk on his face. "Though I do much prefer Smaug."

Molly didn't even think about her actions. She closed the little distance between them and pressed her lips against his, against Sherlock's, her arms winding around his neck. In turn, his arms went round her waist, picking her up and holding her against his body. 

Molly let out a little moan as he deepened the kiss, and she didn't register as Sherlock settled her into the same pile of skins from so long ago. 

Her clothing was divested of, and he was kissing her, nipping and suckling in places that made Molly gasp and mewl. 

_What was she doing?_

It didn't matter to her. All she felt was the man on top of her, worshiping her body.

Then Sherlock was sliding into her, and she didn't think of anything else but the pleasure.  
~*~  
"How long does this form last?" Molly asked, dragging her fingers lazily up and down Sherlock's arm. She tilted her head up to look at her lover properly. 

He let out a soft hum, watching Molly in wonderment. "Until dawn. I will have to move to the gold soon," he murmured. He tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek gingerly. 

"It only happens once a month?" She asked.

Sherlock nodded. Molly moved her head so it was resting on his chest. 

"Stay with me," he said suddenly. Molly frowned and sat up. 

"Apologies?"

"You could become one of my own," Sherlock said, sitting up as well. He gathered her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over the smooth skin. 

She shook her head. "You're not making any sense, love."

_Love._ The word had slipped before she could take it back. It hung in the air, making Sherlock hesitate. 

He smiled a little at her. "I could make you like me. A half-breed of dragon and man," he said quietly. Molly's eyes widened slightly. 

"Are...are you sure?" she asked tentatively. Her hands trembled in his.

Sherlock nodded. "Just a bite to your neck. It won't hurt you much. Please, Molly. I need a mate."

_Mate._

He wanted her as his mate. 

She swallowed hard. This wasn't going to happen again for a long time.

"Will I age?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You won't die either. Not unless you are slain." His expression darkened. "I will assure that you're protected," he growled.

Molly took in a shaky breath. "You have to promise to never kill for fun again," she breathed. She swept her hair over her shoulder, tilting her head to expose her neck to him.

"I swear upon it, Molly Hooper." She knew he meant it by the tone.

A small smile graced her features. "Good," she whispered.

The same smile appeared on Sherlock's lips. "Ready?" he whispered.

She nodded.

His eyes flashed golden, and he ducked his head, his teeth sinking into her neck.


End file.
